A Titan's Fall
by Ashrandi the skull kid
Summary: *Major Spoilers up to Chapter 20* There's only so much one man can take on his own. But that's why no one should fight alone, especially not against the enemy known as "guilt." (Original timeline, Lon'qu/Avatar)
1. Arrival in Valm

**A/N: Fire Emblem is the property of… whoever owns it. Which, unfortunately, is not me.**

**While this is kind of a continuation of "You Are Who You Are" and "The First Time is Awkward," it takes place in the original timeline. Everything takes place several years later than it does in-game to allow for enough time for parent/child bonds to develop before everything goes downhill. I've tried to extrapolate the events that happened based on the effects Lucina is said to have had, but the relationships are essentially the same.**

He was dead.

Khan Basilio… was dead.

Everyone in the army knew that Walhart was strong. Exceedingly strong. Yet no one thought, even for an instant, that he would be able to fell the West-Khan. And, if the Feroxi soldiers were to be believed, he did it in only three blows.

Wren tried to focus on developing strategies and contingency plans for beating the Valmese army, but her mind kept wandering to the single fact that Basilio was no longer a player on the board. It terrified her and made her feel bad for even thinking of him as something besides the warrior titan he was. _If only I'd been there_, was the tactician's recurring thought as the small caravan carried her from Port Valm to the Ylissean army's current camp. _If only I'd come over with the rest of the army…_

It wasn't her fault. Not really. When she found that she was with child, the threat of Valm seemed so far away. Now, though… Wren couldn't believe she hadn't seen the signs. The small country of Valm… sweeping through and conquering the rest of the continent… it had only been a matter of time before they set their sights on Ferox, Plegia, and Ylisse. And when that had happened, the tactician was really starting to show. Lon'qu, Chrom, even Flavia and Basilio told her to stay behind until she gave birth and recovered. Wren had acquiesced to their request for the sake of her child, doing what she could to help the war effort from home.

Now, two months after everyone else had set off to Valm, their tactician was finally catching up. Morgan was safe in Ylisse, and Wren was ready to win this war.

But Basilio was dead.

And she kept thinking that it was her fault for not being there.

"We're here." The calm voice of her chauffeur snapped Wren out of her reverie and back to the present. They were entering the courtyard of a large fort – Fort Steiger, she believed – and the several soldiers training therein turned to see the short parade of horses and riders head to the stables. The tactician looked back at them, just to gauge their mood, and what she saw made her spirit fall further than it already had.

These soldiers were disheartened. A few seemed to give off a sense of relief at seeing the brilliant tactician of Ylisse finally reach the front lines, but that was just it. Relief. Meaning that the time when she wasn't there to direct their advances was worse than normal. _I have to raise their morale somehow_, Wren mused as she dismounted and handed her horse off to someone. At least, she thought she did. Looking back, she had to squint her eyes and look sideways, but that was definitely Kellam. _That's odd. Was he not trying to get my attention?_ She was being pushed towards the fort itself, so she didn't have enough time to stop and call out to him. No sense in delaying her meeting with Chrom.

Inside, the Ylissean prince, his younger sister, the East-Khan, and several of the highest ranked warriors in their army were gathered in what might've once been the throne room to the ruler of these lands before Walhart's conquest. As soon as she set foot inside the surprisingly small – for a throne room – hall, everyone turned to her, and Wren got a good look at the hopelessness on their faces. But Chrom's scowl and deeply furrowed brow instantly softened, and he ran up to embrace her. In his excitement, he actually lifted her off the floor for a moment.

"Wren! Thank the gods you're here," he nearly cried, hugging her to him as if she'd disappear if he let go. The tactician returned the gesture and patted him on the back for good measure. Only then did he let her go.

"And I'm glad to be here," she sighed. Wren absentmindedly rubbed where she'd been hugged, fairly certain that her arm was going to bruise. "I just…" Any glee she had obtained from seeing her best friend again was dashed as she remembered the last bit of news she'd heard. "I just wish I could've come sooner."

A loud harrumph echoed from behind, drawing Wren's attention to the fact that everyone else had been gathering around them. The source of the noise was none other than the East-Khan herself. "Don't blame yourself for anything, girl," Flavia said – no, demanded. "That oaf wouldn't have wanted anyone laying blame on themselves, you least of all. Now buck up! We've a war to win." Even if her words were harsh, Wren couldn't help but feel grateful that she was acting like her normal self. Sure, her voice was strained and her words sounded pained at best, but if Flavia could soldier through this time, then what else could the tactician do but follow her lead.

"She's right," Chrom said. Everyone was nodding along with their leaders, and Wren knew she saw hints of smiles peeking through their masks of sorrow. "Basilio bought us enough time to take out Yen'fay and some of his strongest soldiers. The rest of the southern army crumbled without him, though Say'ri is a little worse for wear."

Wren just nodded. She'd heard of the Chon'sin princess and her help in aiding their own war efforts. The tactician would have to talk with her at some point, but all she saw were familiar faces in the throne room, so she filed that thought away for later. "Sounds like you've managed so far," the tactician said. "Bring me up to speed on the situation, and I'll start work right away."

Chrom shook his head. "No, you've probably had a rough journey. I'd rather you rest up before leaping back into the fray." The Ylissean's prince's slight smile turned flat, and he fiddled with the edge of his cloak, a gesture Wren had long ago learned meant that he was thinking of how to word something. "And… there's something else that needs your attention. You see…"

"I'll just show her." Wren's head snapped to see Sumia standing by her husband's side. Either she was taking lessons from Kellam in the arts of stealth or the tactician was more tired than she thought. "A picture tells a thousand words and all that, right? You just get back to planning. I'm sure Wren would like it a lot better if all our information was sorted before she needs to use it."

No one needed a psychic to know what Chrom's answer to that would be. Sumia had an odd way for getting him to do what she wanted, after all. It would've been scary had she not been so nice about it. "Yeah, that's actually a good idea," he agreed. "We'll make sure that everything's in order before tomorrow, Wren. Then you can plan without worrying about a mess of papers."

All attempts at humor were falling flat in the face of the overwhelming aura of depression that hung above them all. Still, Wren could feel that everyone's spirits were lifted, even slightly, by her arrival. Just this once, she thought, she could let them handle the initial organization. "Okay, Sumia," she yawned. Yes, she was certainly more tired than she thought. "What's this problem that needs my attention?"

**A/N: Please comment, critique, or question! I love feedback, and every little bit helps.**


	2. Conversation for Walking

**A/N: Originally, this section was just going to be part of the next chapter, but it just didn't fit into the whole tone I was going for in the next section. So, I made it into its own chapter; that's why it's so short.**

**(Also, this section didn't really seem too terribly important to the story, but I wanted to include it anyway.)**

Sumia was oddly silent as she walked with Wren down the hallways. In all honesty, it was starting to worry her. Even if they weren't very close, the clumsy pegasus knight had always been ready with a story from her latest book to tell Wren about in great detail. The only time she thought Sumia was ever this quiet was when she was calming an animal… and even then, she usually said _something_.

A heavy sigh finally pushed her to ask. "Sumia, what's wrong?"

The pegasus knight tripped over her own feet at that, and Wren had to stop immediately to keep from tripping over her. Sumia was up on her feet in an instant, though, having mastered the art of getting back to her feet long ago. She looked back at the shorter woman, her cheeks flushed. "Wh-what's wrong? Nothing! I mean, there's Basilio. I mean…" Sumia let out a loud sigh, the likes of which could only be rivaled by Cordelia. "Everyone's sad, and there's nothing I can do about it. But you walk into the room, and everyone's faces light up. I… I wish I could be like you sometimes."

"I'm just the tactician," Wren said automatically. It always seemed like 'humble' was written into her very being, ever since she was a girl growing up in that remote, Ylissean mountain range. Her mother had told her so many times that she mustn't get a big head or she'd float away. Part of her actually believed in that ridiculous story.

Sumia didn't believe her, though, if her shaking head was any indication. "No, you're so much more than that," she sighed again. If she kept this up, then Cordelia would have to work much harder to keep her title as 'person who sighs the most.' But she kept going, as Sumia was wont to do. "You're an inspiration to all of us. You carried us to victory when we thought we were done for. You and Chrom can do anything together."

Tired though she was, Wren could still hear the slight crack in her voice as she said Chrom's name. _So that's what this is about_, the tactician sighed herself. It seemed to be contagious now. "Sumia, I'm not going to replace you." While the pegasus knight opened her mouth to argue, Wren held up her hand to keep from being interrupted. "Chrom loves you _as his wife_. Whatever love you think he holds for me, it's just that between two good friends. How long are you going to worry about this?"

Sumia looked down at the floor. Her face was just so… blank, though Wren could see the small hints and signs that she was upset. The subtle narrowing of her eyes, the rocking back and forth on her heels, the way her shoulders bunched up… for some reason, the tactician was just good at reading people. "I'm sorry," the pegasus knight whispered. "I know it's irrational. I know I should trust you. I know I should trust Chrom. But… I still have to work to make him light up the way you make him light up just by walking into the room. I'm sorry I'm jealous."

Wren sighed, scratching the back of her neck. She never had understood why a man and woman couldn't just be friends. They didn't cover stuff like that in her strategy texts. So, she just settled on the next best thing… instinct. "It may just be words to you," the tactician said, patting Sumia on the shoulder, "but I can say, with complete certainty, that Chrom would never betray you. And neither would I. If you knew how he goes on and on about you during my visits, then you-" Wren cut herself off. Hadn't she and Chrom decided that they wouldn't let their spouses know what they talked about behind their backs? _Nice time to slip up, Wren. Nice._

Sumia began wringing her hands together, her eyes pleading even as her voice did, too. "Wh-what does he say?"

"Uh…" Wren gave the pegasus knight a lopsided smile. "I… kinda promised I wouldn't tell you. But it's always good stuff!" She needed a diversion, and she needed it now. Kids! Sumia was so proud of her kids. That might work. "Lucina's doing well. Cynthia, too. Lucina said she'd look after Morgan while I'm here. I think they'll be getting along great when they get older."

Wren tried to force a laugh, but it was hollow. Sumia shook her head, but she didn't look quite as upset as before. "O-okay… I… I'd really like that." The pegasus knight also tried to force a smile. She obviously knew that Wren was trying to change the subject and was just playing along. "I bet Morgan will be just as kind as you are." As she turned back around, the tactician could just barely make out what she said next, "Th-thank you. And… I'm sorry. For doubting you."

Regardless of whether or not she was supposed to hear it, Wren replied anyway. "Water under the bridge, Sumia," she said, patting her on the shoulder. "But you were taking me to see something?"

"Right! Follow me!"

Wren only had to help Sumia up off the floor once on their way to the inner courtyard. Really, that had to be a record.

**A/N: I know this chapter was short, but I'd still like your comments. Critiques are even more welcomed. Thank you.**


	3. Breaking Point

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed. I'm so glad that people are enjoying my stories. It's been a while since I last wrote full stories, let alone fanfiction, so it's great to hear from all of you.**

**And now, to the story…**

When Sumia left Wren, it was at the door to the courtyard. She only gave the tactician a brief and unsatisfactory explanation, that she didn't want to intrude, before excusing herself and running back the way they came. Wren supposed that the pegasus knight wanted to help Chrom and the others with sorting their collective knowledge – and papers – for her review the next day. None of that really answered her unasked question about what needed her attention right then.

Her friends wouldn't do anything mean to her, though, so she decided that it couldn't be anything too bad. Taking a deep breath, Wren opened the door.

The inner courtyard had been converted into another training area, albeit a smaller one. A few training dummies, targets, and barrels were scattered about along with training gear, none of it as well taken care of as their real weapons and armor.

In the center of that familiar organized chaos was a man she hadn't seen in far too long.

"Lon'qu!" Wren's face lit up, as her first thought was that her husband was there. She took a few steps into the courtyard before noticing anything else. But what she noticed made her pause. The swordmaster was utterly focused on the training dummy in front of him, one that was beginning to look more like a cat's chew toy than a human effigy. Wren could only guess that it had been the target of several aggressive attacks, and if Lon'qu had been using a real sword, then it probably wouldn't even exist as scraps.

The swordmaster didn't notice that she was there. Everything was focused on that training dummy. Under normal circumstances, Wren would've just caulked it up to intense training, but something about this whole situation was just… off. Not even he could be this utterly oblivious to what was going on around him. The tactician continued her steps towards him, this time taking it slow, as to not startle Lon'qu. Really, though, she should've been more concerned about being startled herself.

With barely a grunt or warning twitch, Lon'qu struck the training dummy. Wren gasped at the ferocity behind the swing, and he didn't stop there. He didn't even spare a glance her way. The swordmaster struck it again and again, and Wren found that she just couldn't breathe. Each attack had at least twice the strength behind it that he normally had but half the finesse. It was like watching a badger attack a wagon: shocking in its determination but ultimately pointless. And as Lon'qu showed no sign of stopping, either the sword or the dummy had to give.

It was the sword. The snapping of the wood shocked Wren out of her terror enough to begin breathing again, but she still couldn't move. The swordmaster either didn't notice or care since he just pulled back and, with a harsh shout, drove the splintered end of the training sword into the dummy's chest.

"LON'QU!" Wren was surprised by the harshness in her own tone, but she didn't question it. Sumia was right; it was much easier to believe this if she just saw it herself. The tactician didn't think she would've believed her if she'd just been told. "What has gotten into you?!"

"I told you to leave me alone!" Lon'qu barked, snapping his head in her direction. If Wren hadn't already been glaring at him, the snarl on his face would've sent her running for her life. But confused anger turned out to be quite the defense against fear.

She didn't need it, though. A flash of recognition passed through the swordmaster's eyes, and all the hate that he felt left in an instant along with his spirit. Lon'qu tried to take a step backwards but fell down as his legs lost all their strength. He didn't try to look back up at Wren, but she could tell that his hateful look was gone.

Wren let out an exasperated sigh. This was not something she wanted to deal with right now, but she was not about to leave it for the morning. Her husband was distressed about something – even more than everyone else – and it broke her heart to see him like this. After two months apart, she had hoped that their reunion would be more joyful. But this is what she got, so she was going to take it.

"I'm sorry," the tactician whispered. Her voice had left along with all of Lon'qu's apparent rage, so only the stillness of the courtyard allowed her voice to carry to where he sat on the ground. Taking a moment to compose herself, Wren took the last few strides up to the swordmaster before kneeling at his side. "I shouldn't have yelled, but you weren't listening."

Lon'qu just nodded obediently. He never did that. At his most terse, when Wren reprimanded him, he would just grunt and apologize. Stopping at a mere nod was… unnerving. She could almost feel her heart ache; after so many years, they had both learned to pick up on those subtle cues that told them the other was hurting. This… this was worse than anything she had ever seen. His eyes were unfocused, he was hunched over, his shoulders drooped… all Wren wanted to do was reach out and hold him.

And then she wondered why she was suppressing that urge at all. There was no reason to avoid physical contact since he was no longer holding a weapon.

Wren leaned in, wrapping her arms around Lon'qu's broad shoulders and pulling him into a gentle embrace. He let her do so, even turning his head to rest it against her shoulder. They just stayed like that for several minutes before the silence was broken.

"I should have been there." Wren just stroked his arm as he spoke, waiting for Lon'qu to get to his point in his own time. "I should have taken the hit. And now…"

Lon'qu shifted, wrapping his arms around the tactician and nuzzling further into the crook of her neck. When he didn't continue, Wren sighed. There was only one man the swordmaster would die for… and that man was now dead. "It wasn't your fault, love," she whispered. "You weren't there… right?"

"No…" he shook his head. "No. But I should have been." Beneath her hands, Wren felt him begin to tremble. "I'm nothing… Nothing… Basilio… he…" His words dissolved into soft, dry sobs that tore at Wren's heart. More than anyone else, Lon'qu had looked up to the West-Khan. Idolized him, even. The tactician knew of this admiration, yet she couldn't fathom how hurt he was by Basilio's death. She doubted even Emmeryn's assassination held as much sway over her as this did over him.

All she could do was offer him a shoulder to cry on and some friendly words. "You couldn't know. No one could know. And if you'd been there…" Wren's mouth froze as she thought of what she was about to say. It was painful, but she believed more good than harm would come of saying it. Still, it took her a moment to get the words out. "If you'd been there, then we might be having two burials instead of the one. And… and I…" Her words finally failed her right then. Wren hiccupped silently as she tried to suppress her tears. It was a futile effort, as they fell anyway, and the tactician just pressed her lips to his head, hugging him closer. _I don't want to lose you_, she thought, hoping that her intentions would translate without need for more words. _I can't lose you. Not now._

Lon'qu tilted his head up, pushing Wren back a bit so he could look her in the eye. She saw then that his eyes were wet with unshed tears; his sobbing hadn't been completely dry. "I can't… I… I can't protect… anyone. Basilio's dead." His voice finally cracked, but the tears stayed where they were. "And… and no one is… is strong enough. No one can… can kill Walhart…"

"We can," Wren said, a bit too quick to be convincing. But she had to believe the Conqueror could be toppled. If she didn't believe it, then they truly were doomed. "T-together… we're so much stronger than we are apart."

Lon'qu just shook his head again. She felt something wet hit her skin, and she pulled him back into an embrace. He didn't cry. He never cried. But what else could it be but his tears? "I'm not strong enough… I… I couldn't save Basilio… I couldn't protect Ke'ri… I… I can't… I can't protect anyone… I can't protect you…" The swordmaster's entire body was shaking at that point. "I… I can't… I can't be… I can't be West-Khan… I can't… I can't… Not when I can't even protect you…"

How he had gone from Basilio to her, Wren didn't know. And why was he saying he couldn't be West-Khan? The tactician's mind, disordered though it was at the moment, was still cogent enough to put the pieces together. Ferox always had two Khans. Until a proper tournament could be held to determine the new West-Khan, someone had to step in to fill the void. As Basilio's right-hand man, Lon'qu was the obvious choice. It must just have been to bolster Feroxi morale – as Flavia was still Khan-regnant – but the swordmaster still felt the entire weight of the position… and what it meant.

Wren pulled away, cupping Lon'qu's cheeks and tilting his head to look at her. She wiped away the thin streams of tears, sure that she didn't look much better and not really caring right then. "You aren't alone," the tactician croaked out, her voice strained with sorrow and hurt. "I… I'm right here. And so is everyone else. We'll help you. I'll help you. I always will… because I'm right here. And I love you. Please… don't give up. If you can't protect me, then I'll protect you. Okay?"

"But… but I can't… I can't replace Basilio." Lon'qu's grip on the back of her coat tightened. "I can't. I just… can't."

"I'm not asking you to. I don't think anyone can replace him." Wren leaned in again to rest her forehead against his. She was looking him right in the eye, a pained smile on her face as a brittle mask to bolster her own strength. "I've said it before, in another place, to another person, but I'll say it again… You don't have to replace him. Be yourself, and I'll be by your side. Together, we're stronger than we are alone. That's truer now than it ever was before. Please… don't give up. And if you need to cry… then cry. You're no weaker for it." She paused to swallow back her tears again, stroking his hair gently. He really hadn't taken care of himself lately, she realized; his hair was ever so slightly longer than she remembered. It was an odd thing to focus on when everything else was so precarious.

Finally, after a long silence, Lon'qu closed his eyes and nodded. "I… I will. Th-thank you… Wren. I missed you… so much…" With that, the swordmaster kissed her. Slowly, gently… as if he were afraid that she would break.

Wren closed her eyes and lost herself in it. While there was sorrow and fear in that kiss, she had missed that intimacy, the closeness. And if she could comfort him in any way possible, she would.

Lon'qu broke away first, muttered softly, "I'm… tired."

The faintest of real smiles tugged at the edges of her lips as Wren replied, "So am I. Do… do you think you could lead the way? I don't know where our room is."

The swordmaster also smiled slightly and nodded. "Yeah. I… I can do that."

**A/N: That… was longer than I thought it would be. There is more to come, so please comment, critique, or ask me questions. I'm always looking to improve.**


	4. Shatterpoint

**A/N: And now, we switch to Lon'qu's point of view for a bit.**

The throne room was immense, yet it still seemed too small for the man before them. The Shepherds had fought through Cervantes's knights and Excellus's mages, and they were still battle-ready. A bit worse for wear but ready. At least, they thought they were.

"Gods… how can one man be that strong?"

Lon'qu didn't have to look to know that Wren was right by his side, Rexcaliber in hand. Her exclamation was warranted as Walhart nearly cleaved Kellam's shield in half and still had enough momentum to bite into Minerva's scales as Cherche tried to get a hit in. Her hammer almost bounced off the Conqueror's armor, leaving all but Walhart himself a bit shocked.

They all knew they were in for a tough fight. It just hadn't sunk in until that very moment. Lon'qu gripped his sword tighter, his focus narrowing onto Walhart. He didn't move as he tried to study his movements, tried to find the best way of attack. Any chink in that red armor would do… if there were any. _There has to be some weakness… something he overlooked. Where is it…?_ His thoughts whirled around that one idea, holding the worst of his emotions at bay. This man had killed Basilio, a warrior whom Lon'qu had yet to even match in strength. Yet they had to beat him. Somehow.

"Lon'qu." The swordmaster snapped his head to Wren as she addressed him directly. There was a fire in her eyes, a look that everyone in the Shepherds had learned meant she had an plan. Or maybe just a crazy idea. Whatever it was, he was all ears. "Go for the backs of his legs. They're less armored. I'll distract him. Now go!"

The tactician had barely finished speaking as Lon'qu nodded and dashed around the Conqueror. There was no hesitation in his steps. Wren had never led them wrong before, and he trusted her completely.

But battle was a fickle thing. Before Wren could summon the tornado of energy from her tome, Walhart caught sight of the swordmaster slinking around behind him. The Conqueror scoffed and casually swung his massive axe. Lon'qu raised his sword to block, but the impact sent him skidding back several feet. When he came to a stop, he had to use the silver sword to keep himself from falling over, winded.

"Is that all you have? Is this really your best?" Walhart smiled, like this was just an afternoon warm-up for him. He only looked back at Wren when her Rexcaliber spell hit, mostly just scratching up his horse and armor. "You disappoint me. Is there no one among your ranks who can even challenge me? Or was that Feroxi barbarian really your best?"

Walhart's dry laughter was like oil to the fire Lon'qu felt burning in his heart, but his body was still reeling from the last blow. He was right; Basilio was the best among them. Had been. And the Conqueror was calling him a barbarian. Lon'qu couldn't let that stand. Wouldn't.

Through sheer force of will, the swordmaster stopped the shaking in his limbs, pushing himself back to his full height and shifting the blade in his hands. All he could see was red. Whether it was from anger or the color of Walhart's armor, he didn't know nor did he care. The Conqueror turned his attention from Lon'qu to Chrom, not worried about the swordmaster after his pathetic attempt to get around him.

That was a mistake.

Lon'qu was back on his feet and aimed a strike right at the horse's legs. The silver sword easily severed the taut tendons there, and Walhart's horse whinnied as it went down. The Conqueror wasn't by any means vulnerable – he managed to not get pinned by his flailing mount – but the swordmaster was upon him in a flash. He wasn't letting Walhart get a chance to recover; no, he wanted this victory to be overwhelming. He wanted the Conqueror to feel helpless… just like Lon'qu felt when he heard that the West-Khan was dead.

The Conqueror swung Wolf Berg at his side, catching him in the ribs with the haft since he was far too close for the blade. Lon'qu winced but didn't slow down. What were a few cracked ribs compared to the hole in his heart. Walhart was about to say something, but he didn't want to hear anything the Conqueror wanted to say, and Lon'qu brought the sword down on his head.

Metal cracked, swiftly followed by the crunch of bone. Most of the time, fighters just went for the cracks in between the metal plating. Lon'qu had just gone right through that band of red armor across Walhart's forehead. There was no way even the Conqueror survived _that_ blow.

Walhart was obviously dead – although a coup de grace wasn't out of the question given who it was – but Lon'qu was drawing his sword back for another strike. With a shout that sounded more like an injured animal than a man, the swordmaster brought his sword down on Walhart's head again.

And again.

And again.

The dead eyes and stunned expression on Walhart's face soon dissolved into a mess of red and shards of off-white, but it still wasn't enough. Why wasn't it enough? Lon'qu kept striking with all his might even as the room faded into stunned silence.

At least, until he drew back for one more strike only to find two strong hands gripping his wrists. For one brief moment, Lon'qu thought that maybe, just maybe, it was Basilio. That, somehow, the Khan wasn't dead and never had been. Who else could stop him like that? One glance over his shoulder dispelled that illusion though, as his gaze met that of Vaike.

"Yeah, I think he's dead now!" the blonde-haired warrior shouted, not loosening his grip even as Lon'qu tried to shake him off. While the swordmaster would've won in a straight-up battle with the man, Vaike beat him in terms of pure strength by miles. He would never beat him in this contest of pure brawn, so the only outlet for his building rage was to scream.

When his breath ran out, Lon'qu looked around and glared at the rest of the army. Most were averting their eyes, trying to find any excuse to look elsewhere. Lissa and Maribelle busied themselves healing everyone else; Sully and Stahl turned their horses and went to pick up those who were injured farther away from the main group. And the rest either pretended to be doing something else or kept staring.

Wren was a part of that second group, and Lon'qu didn't notice her immediately. But as soon as Chrom turned, he saw. The tactician was hiding behind the Ylissean king, holding onto his cloak like a lifeline and staring, wide-eyed, at her husband. The swordmaster's glare fell from his face, as did the sword from his hands. He just didn't have the will left to keep a hold of it. Wren was… scared of him. That… Lon'qu barely managed to keep his voice from wavering as he spoke, aiming his words at Vaike. "I'm… fine. You… you can let go."

The warrior's sigh was quite audible as he slowly relaxed his hold. "Right…" He didn't sound convinced, but after that display, Lon'qu was just glad he didn't tie him up right there.

Rubbing his wrists, the swordmaster stepped to the side, slowly making his way to somewhere dark and secluded where he could just hide for a while.

**A/N: I… did not like writing this chapter. The last half of it went through several revisions before I was happy with it (which is why it took so long to write). Anyway, I hope I did a good job with this chapter, as I'm not very good with fight scenes. Whatever comments or critiques you have about this chapter in particular would be greatly appreciated.**

**Thank you all for reading. There's still one more chapter to go, though, so stay tuned.**


	5. A Reason to Continue

After Walhart's defeat, diplomacy and politics took over. Chrom, Say'ri, Flavia, and Wren were dragged to meeting after meeting to sort out what was to be done with the liberated territories, many of which had lost their ruling dynasts. Some insisted that Valm itself should be given to Ylisse, while others argued that it should be given to one of the other countries that suffered heavily under Walhart's rule.

Whatever was decided, Lon'qu didn't know and didn't care. He didn't know anything about politics outside of Regna Ferox, so his absence must've helped more than hurt the proceedings. He still sat outside Valm castle's conference room every day, waiting only for Wren. Often, she was the last one out, looking more tired than she ever had before. The swordmaster desperately wanted to go up to her, but as soon as he moved, she flinched. That was enough to keep his legs from moving; the tactician was still afraid of him. Not that he could really fault her for it. Lon'qu had been the one to lose control during battle.

So, he stayed away from her, sleeping in a different room and mentally chastising himself until he felt tears form. He has lost Basilio to battle, and now he was losing Wren to his own stupidity.

The only reason he knew that anything had been decided upon was that they moved out about a week after the fighting ended. It was simultaneously a relief and a burden, as Lon'qu could finally focus on just putting one foot ahead of the other on their way back to Valm Harbor but when they set up camp, it became increasingly difficult to avoid Wren and her frightened gaze.

This exchange did not go unnoticed by the other Shepherds, but no one seemed willing to intervene, possibly for fear that the swordmaster would turn some of his hidden rage on them. Some, though – for better or worse – didn't care.

"Gregor is not only one being spoiled by good foods, eh?" The heavy accent accompanied by an even heavier 'thud' as the mercenary plopped down beside Lon'qu shook the swordmaster from his intense study of the stew before him. They had stopped in Valm Harbor for the night, waiting for clear skies before sailing back to Ferox, so everyone was enjoying their meal at a real table again. It wouldn't be for another eleven days that they'd be able to eat on a stable surface again in Port Ferox, so everyone was enjoying their relatively large portions and soup.

"Hmph," Lon'qu grunted. He was in no mood for Gregor's cheerful disposition… or his insistence to join in the festivities. The mercenary had done so before, so he could easily do so again. "It's food. Who cares if it's good or not?"

Gregor let out a heavy sigh. "Well, Gregor for one would much be to liking the good food to bad food. Is easier to swallow, yes?"

"What do you want?" Lon'qu turned his eyes to glare at the older man. Gregor made being happy look so easy, but he wasn't the one whose wife was avoiding him. No, he'd seen the mercenary and Panne laughing together earlier that evening, talking about one thing or another.

"Does Gregor need reason to be chatting up with friend? No." Lon'qu kept glaring, and finally, the old mercenary's smile and shoulders fell. "Alright. You catch Gregor. Lon'qu is in needing of talk about wife, yes? Gregor is taking job because Lon'qu is good friend."

So that's what this was about. The swordmaster went back to staring at his meal. "I don't need your help."

"Oy! Is no needing to be shy. Lon'qu is having tough time, yes? Gregor is wanting to be with the helping. Lon'qu might just be learning something by giving ear to elder." The mercenary was leaning down so that a bit of his orange hair entered Lon'qu's field of vision. Glancing over, he sighed.

"What would you know?" he huffed, debating whether or not he could hit the mercenary over the head before ending up in a headlock himself. "Your only master is money."

"That is not lie, but not entirely truth, either." The swordmaster turned his head a bit further, allowing Gregor to sit back while still looking at him. "Gregor have plenty of people he cares for with much love. Have also lost many loved ones. Gregor knows pain very much."

Against his better judgment, Lon'qu asked, "How… how did you deal with it?"

"By being very much upset," Gregor shrugged. He didn't seem to really believe his own answer, but the mercenary didn't stop. "And sometimes by being very mad. Is what Lon'qu did, yes? Gregor does not think is bad way of dealing with pain, but is also giving people bad frights. Lon'qu is Khan now, yes? Is bad for people to being frightened."

"I am not Basilio!" Lon'qu brought his fist down on the table between him and Gregor, causing the older man to raise his eyebrows. Some soldiers nearby looked at the sudden noise but went back to their meals when the swordmaster didn't continue shouting.

"Ah, now Gregor sees problem. Lon'qu is feeling bad about the naming of Khan, yes?"

"And other things…" the swordmaster growled under his breath. He thought Gregor hadn't heard him, but the mercenary proved him that his hearing was still as sharp as ever.

"Pain of losing, weight of duty, and scaring of wife, then. Gregor not so familiar with last two, but will try with the helping."

"Why?" Lon'qu didn't know whether to feel annoyed or angry… or grateful. Gregor was a rival to him. Why should he help with anything?

"Gregor has said already: Lon'qu is friend. So is Wren. Is not nice seeing friends in pain, so Gregor tries to help."

Lon'qu slowly turned his gaze from Gregor back to his stew. It was probably cold by now. "Thanks… but I don't think you can really help."

"Gregor thinks so, too. But is better to know that Lon'qu is not only one on boat, yes? Basilio was great man. Many miss him, but Basilio would most likely be proud Lon'qu took down Walhart… though maybe not so proud of the whole scaring people thing." Gregor patted the swordmaster's shoulder. "But is reason Lon'qu must be with the talking. Make friends less scared and not so lonely. Lon'qu is not Basilio, and everyone knows it. But is not bad thing, yes? Many are liking Lon'qu as is."

Lon'qu closed his eyes, letting the mercenary's words soak in fully. Maybe he would've liked to get sword-fighting advice from Gregor instead of social advice, but he had a point. Staying silent wasn't helping anyone. Lon'qu sighed again, looking the old mercenary in the eye. "Thanks. I… I need to go… talk to someone now…"

"Is good," Gregor chuckled as the swordmaster got up. "Gregor is here if Lon'qu is needing someone to be listening."

...

Lon'qu hesitated for a moment before knocking lightly on Wren's door. He still didn't know what he was planning to say, but Tharja was lurking down the hall. She wasn't even being subtle about it, and the swordmaster didn't want to wait to see what she was planning. While he had no doubt that the Plegian dark mage wouldn't hurt a hair on Wren's head, he firmly believed that she was undecided about himself.

A few silent moments later, he heard the door creak open. "Yes?" Wren asked, peeking out just enough to see who was there. "Lon'qu? What…?"

He didn't know what question she was trying to ask, so Lon'qu just said the first words that came to mind. "I'm sorry." Another moment of silence before adding, "C-can I… come in? Tharja's… glaring… at me."

Wren quickly opened the door and pulled him inside, giving a few glances down the hall in each direction before closing it and leaning back. "Okay. Hopefully she doesn't eavesdrop again."

Lon'qu just nodded and gave an affirmative grunt, but now that he was here, he fidgeted nervously. There was no reason to be afraid… or maybe there was every reason. The swordmaster didn't know. "I… I came to apologize," he said, letting out a deep breath.

Wren looked up, her face relatively emotionless. "What, exactly, are you apologizing for?"

Lon'qu grimaced. He hadn't thought she would ask that. Shouldn't she already know? She was really smart, especially about stuff like that. Or was she doing something else? "Um… for… for everything, I think." When the tactician didn't say anything, he sighed. "I'm… sorry for… for scaring you. And… avoiding you. I didn't know what to do."

Wren sighed, visibly relaxing. The slightest hint of a smile tugged at her lips. "Neither did I. Not really. I've never seen you that angry before."

"I've never been that angry before," he said before he could stop himself. "I… I still am. But I would never hurt you. I swear!" Lon'qu lightly grasped her hands, holding them together between them. "I… I…"

"Okay. Okay… I forgive you," Wren almost pleaded. The swordmaster dropped her hands, suddenly worried that he had hurt her. She gripped his sleeves, though, keeping him from pulling away. "But only if you forgive me for avoiding you, too. And… and promise me you'll stop trying to take on everything yourself. Got it?"

Lon'qu nodded just before he pulled her into an embrace. "Yeah."

...

Due to Tiki's warnings of impending danger from Grima, Flavia found that she couldn't arrange a tournament for West-Khan as soon as she'd hoped. With the world sitting on the brink of disaster, no one argued that political minutia could wait. Unfortunately, that left Lon'qu with the title.

"I don't know if I can handle this…" the swordmaster sighed as Wren lead him through the halls of Ylisstol. "The other Feroxi… They don't think I should be a khan even temporarily. That I'm not really Feroxi…" While it took some study, anyone who'd been to Valm could see that most of Lon'qu's features were clearly from Chon'sin. In any other political scenario, he would've been pushed out of the position long ago. As it was, most people acknowledged his strength as enough of a qualification.

"Once we figure out who we're fighting next, I'm sure that'll be the last thing on any of their minds," Wren grinned, giving his shoulder a squeeze. "And it's not forever. As soon as this fight's done, and we don't have to worry about Grima, you won't have to worry about it. Besides, we have one really big reason to want this crisis to end as soon as possible."

She'd been saying this ever since they crossed the Ferox-Ylisse border. With everything else going on, Lon'qu just couldn't keep two thoughts straight enough in his mind to figure out what she meant. But every time he asked, the tactician would just smile and say, "You'll see soon enough." Sure, the first time he asked, she'd given him the most confused look ever, but then, she apparently found something in it quite amusing.

Since he knew she wouldn't answer the question he wanted answered the most, he instead asked, "Where are we, anyway? I've never been here before."

"We're in royal wing of the castle. And we're headed- Oh, here we are." Wren stopped them in front of a pair of double doors, each carved with depictions of animals and, at the top, what was most likely Naga.

"Where's here?" Lon'qu didn't get an answer as the tactician quietly turned the knob and opened the door just enough for her to get through.

"Come on," she said, opening it slightly further so he could fit, too. As he sidled through, Wren turned to someone else in the room and said, in a quiet voice, "Laura, right? Is he awake?"

As Wren went to talk to another woman, Lon'qu found himself distracted by the room they were in. Everything was bright and soft; tall windows shed light on almost every inch of the large room. Most notably, though, were the toys scattered all around and a few empty cribs. _Wait… we're in…?_ That's when it hit him. _H-how did I forget?!_

"Lon'qu?" The swordmaster whirled around at Wren's voice, face quite red. It just deepened in color as he saw the small bundle wrapped in her arms.

"I-I-I didn't m-mean to… forget," he started.

The tactician just shook her head, giggling slightly. "No, I get it. So much has been going on, and you never got a chance to see him before now. So, let me introduce Morgan, our son."

Lon'qu took a very hesitant step forward, leaning down slightly to get a better look. A chubby, little face stared up at him from within the blankets. The infant boy looked alert, already curious about everything around him. _Just like his mother…_ he mused, slowly reaching out to stroke Morgan's cheek. The infant boy closed his eyes and let out what sounded like a laugh.

"Looks like he knows who his father is without me telling him," Wren grinned.

"Heh, I guess so," Lon'qu couldn't help the large, lopsided grin he had right then. This really was a great reason to end the crisis as soon as possible. Looking back into his son's big, brown eyes, he said, "I'm your dad, though you already know that. So… nice to meet you… Morgan."

**A/N: And fin. I think I've learned through writing this piece that I have an attention span of about three chapters. Still, I hope you've enjoyed this story.**

**A special thanks to Kouji Girl for giving me the idea to include Gregor. I don't think I would've thought to put him in this story otherwise.**

**This chapter is my longest to date, but I just couldn't chop it up into different sections. Initially, everything was going to happen when Lon'qu met Morgan, but that just seemed too silly considering how long it takes to get from Valm to Ylisse.**

**As always, comments and critiques are welcome and appreciated.**

**PS: I know that Vaike is the forgetful one, but I just really liked the idea of Lon'qu being so out of sorts that he forgot he has a son.**


End file.
